


we hold on (and let go)

by callingthequits



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce pov, Gen, Missing Scene, in which the avengers bother to pay respects, set within endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 06:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18959791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callingthequits/pseuds/callingthequits
Summary: "Alright," Bruce says -- quietly, resolutely; the Hulk still inside him roaring in grief. "Let's take a second to take a deep breath, yeah? We've got all the time to save to the world. For now, we'll dedicate a small moment for Natasha Romanov: a friend, a teammate, a hero."





	we hold on (and let go)

They reconvene at the lakeside, impossibly serene despite Clint's revelation. They're incomplete for the moment, with Scott needing a breather, Rhodey needing a drink, Rocket needing to start work on the new gauntlet, and Nebula off to who knows where. Valid excuses all the same, it seems like they knew that the five of them needed to be alone together.

The five that's left behind. There's no original six without the Black Widow.

Bruce once said they're not a team, they're a timebomb. Now he thinks they're a little bit of both. And this is the explosion.

They're arguing, because of course they are, that's all they ever do. But this isn't the quiet animosity of the helicarrier nor the lighthearted banter of Stark Tower; this is a heated discussion borne of denial and desperation, the kind you only get at the end of the world. And even then, they're five years too late for that.

_She doesn't deserve this,_ he thinks, and the Hulk rises up and takes that rage and frustration and helplessness and makes it into strength and fortitude. They throw the bench carelessly into the water, and its less anger and more of needing something to do with his hands, something to do with himself. Brains and brawn and best of both worlds and there's nothing he can do for the woman he almost loved but remember her.

The argument behind him stills to a halt. Bruce remains hunched into himself, bracing himself for tears that never manage to come.

"Hey bud," Tony says softly. He reaches out to pat his shoulder and Bruce wishes he was smaller, so he could lean comfortably against his old friend. "Sorry about the fuss. We just want her back, that's all."

"And we are, in fact, getting her back, so there's no need for us to moping around," says Thor, crossing his arms in a way that might have looked dignified and threatening without his massive gut. "Come on, Banner. You and me, we're the strongest avengers. We've got this."

Clint visibly tenses. "And I'm telling you, it's irreversible. We can't bring her back, it's impossible. Is that too hard for your space brain to understand?"

"Knock it off," Steve interjects, always the leader, even after everything. "Clint's the one who went with her, so I say we believe him. Thor, Bruce -- you're the strongest Avengers, no doubt. We need that strength a little longer."

"I agree with the captain," Tony says quickly, before anybody else has a chance to say anything. "Work's not done yet. She obviously thought this was something worth fighting for, least we can do is honor that."

Thor humphs in obvious disagreement but otherwise doesn't argue further. Steve and Tony breathe a sigh of relief, but Clint remains as shaken as ever.

Bruce spares a look at him, and he stares back. Out of everyone in their broken team, everyone in their broken family, they loved her most. He tilts his head in a silent question, and Clint nods imperceptibly.

"Alright," Bruce says -- quietly, resolutely; the Hulk still inside him roaring in grief. "Let's take a second to take a deep breath, yeah? We've got all the time to save to the world. For now, we'll dedicate a small moment for Natasha Romanov: a friend, a teammate, a hero."

They bow their heads in silence. And they stand there for a moment, five exceptionally powerful and battle-worn men, in a serene haze of grief and bittersweet longing for an old life when they were six. And suddenly, Bruce is struck with how they had wasted five unused floors at Stark Tower, the chance for found family and renewed purpose and fighting together and living together and _loving_ together -- and for what? For ego? For comfort? For choosing to live with the same kind of lies they tell themselves every morning, about how better it is to be alone and apathetic than getting attached and getting hurt?

He feels his heart wrench and his eyes burn, taking him to dark, _dark_ times of the forests, of the slums, of his father's alcohol breath and his mother's aching sobs. Of the taste of gunmetal in his mouth. Of blood on his hands, red in his ledger, and furious _greengreengreen_. Of what it was like, before all of this, all of them.

Bruce hums the soft lilting melody of the lullaby that reminded him that he wasn't just the monster he saw himself to be. It wasn't Natasha that helped him out in the end, not really. But she loved him. She loved him, and that was a start.

She loved all of them, together, as a team and as her family. Estranged, broken, rough around the edges, but they were hers. Even through the years they haven't been able to keep in touch with her since the garden planet, when they were all lost and mourning; Thor lost himself in guilt and alcohol, Steve lost himself in grief and stagnancy, Clint lost himself in vengeance, Tony lost himself in his desire to finally have a family. And in the meanwhile, Bruce found himself.

And the five of them contented themselves with that. While Natasha soldiered on and kept fighting, kept hoping for a way to fix things. She kept the fight going in ways they never bothered to help with. And ultimately, she died for it, died for _them_.

They're angry with themselves for letting her go. He can see it in the way Thor furrows his brows, the way that Tony has to close his eyes, the way that Steve tenses his jaw, and the way that Clint's hands still shake. That's alright, for now. Bruce knows how to deal with anger. He can teach them the same, just as she taught him.

"Thank you Nat," he says softly. "It's time we return the favor."

A beat passes. And then--

"Touching," Tony snarks, but his eyes are shining. "Simple, short and sweet. She would've liked it, Bruce, she really would. A little less violence than she would prefer, probably, I don't know, I'm not the spy expert. Clint?"

Clint's lips twitch upwards. "Fucked if I know, Stark. I ain't telling you shits _nothing_."

"Brilliant, great answer. The law of double negatives is shaking. Resident vigilante partner, Rogers?"

The man in question manages a laugh, despite the obvious tear tracks on his cheeks. "It's alright," he grins. "I think she would've liked the lake. It's tranquil, peaceful; just what she needs."

Thor claps Steve on the back. "What? Did you know the same Natasha I know? If she knew what we were doing, she'd laugh until her knives fell out."

Clint barely manages to stifle his budding grin, and Steve makes an obvious point of looking away and biting his lip. Tony, having no such qualms, just says, "Thor buddy, I missed you so much. You're just out of this world and I appreciate that about you a lot. With that in mind, I have no idea how someone can laugh until knives fall out."

"It's not a thing?" his eyebrows furrow. "It sounds very much like a Natasha thing."

"It does," Steve agrees. "And she'd make sure we'd never have proof of it."

"You know what," Tony says. "I think she'd do it, and then she'd gaslight us into thinking it never happened. We'd be like, 'Hey, remember that time you laughed so hard that knives fell out?' and she'd say, 'I don't even like knives, what are you talking about?'"

"None of you know her like I do," Clint announces. "But Thor, I'm pretty sure you're on to something there."

"Of course I do," Thor says. "Bruce, what do you say?"

The four of them turn to Bruce, who hasn't been able to stop smiling since they first started bickering. He was pretty sure that Natasha would have felt the same. 

"As long as it came from us, she'd love it," he decides, and he squares his shoulders. "Suit up, we've got serious some avenging to do."

**Author's Note:**

> The working title for this fic was _i wrote this whole thing because i thought a camera movement was missing_ , referring specifically to that shot of Bruce just randomly throwing a bench into a lake and then cutting, rather abruptly, to his morose face looking back at the rest of the Avengers. They could've edited that more gracefully. But I digress.
> 
> Somebody on Tumblr once said that there's been more Natasha discourse in the past few months than there has been in the past nine years since Iron Man 2 first came out. This is a sad fact, but it's true. While I loved Tony from the start, it was always Natasha who was the most interesting to me. That interest peaked at CA:TWS, began declining after AoU, and was killed off almost entirely by CA:CW discourse. Still, I had respected Natasha's character through fanfic, and I'm sad to see her go -- but in an abstract sort of way. Death is something that I _should_ be sad about, so I am, and I'm also aware that I _should_ be sad that it was her because she was one of the OG6; but ultimately, I don't think the fact that it was Natasha really meant anything to me. How do you mourn someone like that?
> 
> This fic meant to answer that. Because outside of Clint, who in the OG6 really _knew_ who Natasha was? Maybe Steve did, maybe Tony did, maybe Bruce did; we don't know. Steve/Nat was never expanded on post-CA:TWS, Tony/Nat got vague hints in CA:CW that were nullified by Natasha running off to be with Team Cap anyway, and Bruce/Nat never got any satisfactory development in any of the movies where it's referenced. Even God must wonder if Thor and Natasha were ever shown to have any meaningful interaction onscreen, because I sure do. Despite all that, there's still an unspoken but unquestionable bond that these six broken people must share, a bond that was never actualized and fully realized in the MCU but was still there regardless, otherwise why mourn for someone that you never really knew? 
> 
> Natasha's death deserves respect and grief and tears, especially from those she considered her family -- there's no doubt about that. But in the MCU, they were never a family. And now, they never will be.
> 
> Title comes from Soundgarden's _Live to Rise_ , AKA the once-popular-but-now-forgotten credits song for The Avengers (2012). Rest in power, Natasha Romanov.


End file.
